


The Morning Post

by deathbycoldopen



Series: Our House Is Not A Home [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Best Friends, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbycoldopen/pseuds/deathbycoldopen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month into term, it started becoming obvious that Cas never got any mail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning Post

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Poranna poczta](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2209719) by [KittensAndRage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittensAndRage/pseuds/KittensAndRage)



> Part of my Hogwarts AU. Sorry for any mistakes in regards to Britishisms and Wizarding World stuff- I'm an American who hasn't read the Potter books in a while.  
> Enjoy!

Every morning, the Great Hall flooded with owls, and every morning, Castiel would look up hopefully, only to end up empty-handed when the flood of owls left.

It took Dean a while to notice.  After all, he got a letter from Sam almost every other day to distract him.  Once in a while, he even got a letter from his dad, although he never opened those right away, not after that first one after his dad found out what house he'd been sorted into.  He'd read that one at the table, but had to hurry to an unused classroom to keep from bursting into sobs right there in front of everyone.  Cas had followed him, and sat next to him silently while he tried to hold in his tears, a warm, comforting presence at his side.

A month into term, though, it started becoming obvious that Cas never got any mail.

"Does your family even own an owl?" Dean asked his friend teasingly.

Castiel looked down at his hands.  "Yes," he said quietly, then went back to eating his breakfast in silence.

Oh, crap.  It dawned on Dean slowly that maybe Cas had problems with his family, too.  It had never even occurred to him.  Cas was the solid one, the comforting one.  He wasn't supposed to be broken, too.

After that, Cas stopped looking up when the mail arrived, just continued eating his breakfast like his family wasn't ignoring him.  It made Dean squirm with guilt every time he looked over.  Some kind of friend he was, not even noticing when Cas was upset and lonely.

"Good morning," Dean said boisterously a few days later, plopping down next to Cas.  The other boy looked up in surprise.

"You're awake," he said.

"Yup!"

"On a Saturday."

"Yup!"

"Is there some imminent disaster I should know about?" Cas asked, sipping his pumpkin juice casually.  He was always talking like that, like he'd swallowed a thesaurus or an encyclopaedia or something.  He was even worse than Sam- although maybe in a few years, Sam would be just as bad.

"Blimey, Cas, can't a guy wake up at a reasonable hour without being harassed?" Dean asked, grabbing a piece of toast and smothering it with jam.

Castiel was about to answer when the post arrived with the usual cacophony of wings, hoots, and clattering dishes as students caught their letters and packages.  Neither Cas nor Dean looked up, which turned out to be a mistake in Castiel's case.

"What the-" he said, jumping as a letter landed squarely in his porridge.  He looked up at the retreating mass of birds, but there was no way to tell which owl had brought him the letter.

"What've you got there?" Dean asked as Cas gingerly removed the letter from his breakfast.

"I don't know," he said, frowning.  He opened it and his eyes flickered down to the bottom.  "It's not signed."

Dean leaned closer and read over his shoulder.  "'Dear Castiel, I think you are the most amazing person I've ever met.  I don't have the nerve to talk to you in person, but I want you to know that I think about you all the time.'  Aw, Cas, it sounds like you've got a secret admirer."

Cas shot him an exasperated look.  "Dean Winchester, do you think that after a month and a half of copying each other's notes I don't recognise your handwriting when I see it?"

Dean pretended to be shocked.  "What?  You think _I_ sent that?" he asked.  "I see you all the time, Cas, I don't need to send an anonymous letter to tell you that you're fantastic.  Cos you are," he added quickly.  "Fantastic, I mean."

Castiel looked down, a small smile hiding in the corners of his mouth.  He folded the letter up carefully.  "Thank you," he murmured.  Dean was pretty sure he was thanking him for more than just the compliment.

Dean shrugged uncomfortably.  He really wasn't good at this sort of thing.  "Hey, pass me the pumpkin juice," he said, and Cas sighed.

The next day, an unfamiliar owl dropped an unsigned letter on Dean's lap.

_My dearest Dean,_ the letter read in Castiel's handwriting, _if only there were words to describe the way I feel about you!  Your eyes, your lips, that guffaw of laughter your give at the slightest provocation, the way you chew with your mouth open!  All these things and more accompany my every waking thought; but alas, I do not have the courage to speak to you in person.  Until that day I find it in myself to approach you, I shall continue to love you from afar._

Dean smiled and folded up the letter.  _Oh, it's on_ , he thought, already planning how to make his next anonymous letter even more melodramatic than Castiel's.  _It is so on._


End file.
